By definition, an “Ace in the Hole” is a hidden, or unfair
advantage, kept back until the perfect opportunity presents itself (referring to a face-down Ace in stud poker).In the 1951 Billy Wilder Film, loosely informed by the true story of Floyd Collins, Chuck Tatum (Kirk Douglas) is a thwarted,
ambitious journalist who is unabashedly on the prowl for an opportunity to
regain his big city career.Before he
even stumbles upon the story he is able to use toward that end, it has already become
relatively evident how he is scheming for events to pan out.

While Chuck Tatum claims that he “doesn’t make things
happen, [he] just writes about them,” the film makes it very clear that Tatum’s
actions intentionally and unintentionally alter every conceivable course of
events in the story of Leo Minosa.Dewey
claimed that “what actually happens (action) is dependent on the presence or
absence of perception and communication.”Tatum appears utterly anomic as his drive to craft a “perfect story”
overpowers any morality, honesty, civility or integrity that his character may
have had claim to.He willfully crafts a
distorted perception of reality, knowing full-well how it would affect public
opinion, all while creating such a loathsome actual reality (at least as
perceived by the apparent omniscience of the camera), that his “ace in the
hole” devolves into an albatross around his neck.

As Dewey also purported that “the ultimate harm is that the
understanding by man of his own affairs and his ability to direct them are
sapped at their root when knowledge of nature is disconnected from its human
function.”Tatum grasps hold of and
maximizes that disconnect toward what he believes is his own advantage.He capitalizes on corrupt individuals,
bargaining with them to keep Leo Minosa trapped in a cave longer, thus allowing
him to craft a more elaborate, more profitable story.When Leo ultimately dies of pneumonia,
Tatum’s perfect story crumbles beneath him.He must deal with having murdered a man he had exploited unconscionably,
who had genuinely believed in his friendship.This complicated grief, coupled with a probably punctured spleen, lead
to his collapse at the end of the film, as he is finally, frantically, trying
to “tell the truth.”

Describing the public’s habit of hero worship, Walter Lippmann pointed out that in times of security “symbols of public opinion are
subject to check, comparison, argument…” and that a fluidity of inquiry helps
to maintain a certain objectivity of truth.But that in less certain times (emergencies, wars) there are a greater
range of feelings aroused, and that men are more likely to respond emotionally
than objectively.Since, as Lippmann
also maintained “men respond as powerfully to fictions as they do to
realities,” and fictions are not necessarily equivalent to lies, but “rather a
representation of the environment made by man himself.”It is not surprising that the public and the
press ate up Tatum’s constructed story just as he had hoped.It was based enough in reality to be a fiction,
and not a lie.(As Tatum points out to
the newspapermen, he did make sure there was a man trapped down there, even if
everything else was altered or constructed).

Around the few concrete facts Tatum did use, he also
constructed an elaborate, rather deceptive pseudo-environment.He mediated for the public their relationship
with the reality of Leo Minosa’s situation.He lied abjectly about the nature of Leo’s relationship with his wife,
but had no need to embellish the grief of Leo’s parents.He artificially painted the sheriff and
himself as protagonists, but Leo’s own background as a soldier was factual and
easily used to increase “human interest.” The most devastating altering of
reality, however, occurs in Tatum manipulating the rescue operation, encouraging
blackmail of the contractors to make them choose a longer option for the
rescue, in hopes of having time to build his story to a nationwide fever
pitch.Ultimately, is appears that
Tatum’s interference altered everything about this “story.”And as we watch Leo’s bereft father, facing
the mountain that held his dead son, with acres of litter from “the public” before him, we
are led to infer that everything could and should have transpired much
differently without the interference of “journalism.”

Lippmann, admitting to flaws in journalism, listed factors
that inhibit access to “facts.”Several
of these are painfully present in Tatum’s interference.He constructs artificial censorships and
limits social contact, primarily through his corrupt pact with the Sheriff and
with Lorraine Minosa.Nobody but Tatum
is allowed to speak directly to Leo, and Lorraine is threatened when she speaks
to other reporters.Tatum also takes
advantage of the distortion created “when events are compressed into short
messages.”His intense interest in the
commercial success of his story not only destroys the integrity of his
journalism, but is alters action, choices, and events with varying degrees of
devastation for different people.

The treatment of “the public” or the masses in this piece is
more in keeping with Lippman’s assertions than with Dewey’s, though the
concerns of both writers about how the public deals with misinformation are
realized.The public, especially as
embodied by “Mr. and Mrs. America,” the Federbers, are terribly gullible, and
their interest and perceived investment in the story of Leo Minosa are easily
crafted and led by Tatum.Despite the artificial
nature of their “relationship” with Leo, their grief at his passing is viable,
even if it is neither immediate nor over a real relationship or even the "real" Leo.It appears that this “public” is inevitably led by the crafting of
public opinion, and so in keeping with Lippmann’s argument, what is needed is
better, more inquisitive journalism by an elect breed of incorruptible
journalists.This type of integrity is
represented in the film by Mr. Boot, the owner of the Albuquerque newspaper,
with multiple needlepointed “Tell the Truth”s adorning his office.

At some point between when Leo innocently asks Tatum, “You
wouldn’t be lying to me now, would you Chuck?” and when Tatum disgustedly
proclaims over the loudspeaker to the crowd, “The circus is over.” Tatum
appears to have internalized the gravity of what he has done.Before his character collapses, possibly
dead, back in the Albuquerque newspaper office, he has a short-lived new
directive of voicing the story of what actually happened, and how a crazed
reporter could string so many people along to such a devastating end.Whether the exposé of this corruption ever
surfaced in the reality of the film is unresolved, but the film itself is the
actual exposé, and invites viewers to examine the critical thinking that goes
into their own news consumption, and to recognize that their relationship with
reality is always mediated, and often mediated imperfectly.